


Fang Fatale

by Flower_Flame_Princess



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Werecreatures, Fantasy, Forest Guardian Steve Rogers, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Nature Magic, Shapeshifting, Were-Creatures, Werewolf Hunters, Werewolf Steve Rogers, hunter Bucky Barnes, shapeshifter Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28505286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flower_Flame_Princess/pseuds/Flower_Flame_Princess
Summary: He stalked closer, step by step, the thrill of the chase burning in his stomach. He had his crossbow out, hands gripping the wood. He pulled himself out of the grabby branches of the thicket, aiming his arrow at the creature pressed up against the tree and…It was not a wolf.James could not look away. Shock filled every part of his face, freezing every single part of his body and he could not move. He stared at the tree, following the blood trail up to the creature that was not a creature at all.It was a man.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 13
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

It was not the paw prints that had first caught his attention, but the claw marks. 

Five deep grooves cut through the trunk of the tree like a knife through warm butter. Set with seemingly such ease, as though the wood had offered little to no resistance, allowing the monster to rip away its bark and chips of wood.

A light brush of fingers traced the marks upwards towards their highest points, the calloused tips slipping through the grooves. This was the work of a monster, there was nothing else capable of such vile destruction. Upon laying eyes on the maimed trees scattered around his position, the rate of his heart jumped up a frightened pace, but then settled back to a calm beat once he realized the prints and marks had been put there a while ago. The mud had dried around the edges, it was at least a day old, perhaps even older.

Gripping the handle of his ax tighter in his hand, he continued his path, knowing he was getting closer. He was going in the right direction. 

Around him, the forest hummed and sang with life. Tilting his head up, lying it in his neck, he gazed up at the canopy, trying to find the birds that sang so sweetly, but he saw none. He did see a squirrel darting along, passing over from one tree to the other. The sun broke through the ceiling of leaves, casting spots of light on the dirt path in front of him, where outgrown roots swirled up and down the earth, and where fallen leaves scrunched beneath his heavy leather boots.

He would have thought it was beautiful, was it not that a terrible monster was the current resident of the hills and brooks of these woods. 

A soft puff of breath flowed passed his lips, a frown forming on his forehead as he thought back of the lost little girls and boys. He was called to a small town by a letter showing a great distress, and he arrived in a place with rustic cabins dotting the grassy hills while the trees stood up like spikes towards the heavens, zigzagging the border of brick roads and unpolished homes.

There were more than a few brooks flowing bravely through the land with the burble of water and the chittering of small animals, and large grassy landscapes stretched out far for sheep and cows to graze to their heart’s wish, with enough space for children to play in the gently rising and falling meadow. Copious amounts of wildflowers and grasses grew there, making for beautiful sceneries with hundreds of colors. With many wooden houses scattered like the toys of a child across the village that grew slowly in size, it was easily one of the calmest and homiest towns he had ever come across in his life.

Or rather, it _had_ been. 

The second time he arrived, the town had turned dark and gloomy, with empty streets and people scared to venture outside even for a couple minutes, large bolts and locks keeping the doors shut, and the shutters were no longer wide open. It was as if the joy and life had been sucked right out of the painting that had once been this lively home. It was a shock to step into that village again, seeing it had all gone to shit. Many crops had perished of neglect, poisoned by something bad in the earth, animals were whisked away from their stables, and some of the villagers had left already in hopes of finding better chances somewhere else. In hopes of keeping their lives and that of their children safe.

Like glass it was clear to see there were a lot less people taking up the village than the last time he had been there, the laughter had dwindled into silence, the once friendly faces now wary and frowned. Some of the villagers had moved, others… 

Parents with tear-stained faces, clutching tiny clothes, sitting beside small beds, weeping bitter tears for their lost child. It broke his heart all over, thinking back of it. It was horrible. Crying wives held by their broken husbands, recalling memories of a better time that had been ripped away from their grasp so soon. Aunts and uncles, wandering out lost, empty. Brothers and sisters, crying every time they did as much as look at the empty seat beside them at the dinner table. It had to end. That was why they called him. 

_"If anyone can put an end to this slaughter, it’s you, hunter. Go. Avenge our people."_

Avenge the lost children. Kill the beast. 

It seemed simple enough in nature, though he knew well it was never simple with these monsters. There was ever a catch he would only learn about later, a snake hidden in the high grass waiting for him to step forward. Perhaps it would take a few more days to find the beast, it was bigger than he expected, or perhaps it had a special ability he was not aware of yet. Or perhaps it really was just this, and he would be home soon.

The thing was, it was not just the children that were attacked and hauled off; anyone who dared to wander off the trail and into the woods was never seen again, though it seemed children were the monster’s favorite. The prints of an abnormally large canine were found everywhere around the soft dirt of the village, so it was clear it was a canine that was dragging young children back to its den where it ripped them apart, gobbling them up with bones and all. It made James angry, to think about such cruelty. Its latest victim was a young girl, who had accidentally wandered off the trail to find some flowers for her mother’s birthday. 

A scream was all they heard before she had disappeared, and was never seen again. 

It was the straw that broke the camel’s back, and a day later he received a letter written in a way almost hurried. In the letter, they pleaded with him to free them from the evil clutches and put an end to this slaughter. He would, for he _knew_ some of the children himself. He had played with them back in the day, the previous time he was here, laughed with them as they waded around the brooks and went fishing, roasting them above a fire and staying up till deep in the night. They had died a most unfair death. Such a mindless beast should be put down as soon as possible.

He was known far and wide for his skill in the hunt of twisted creatures, for taking down large beasts that others could not. He was one of the best hunters out there, and he would gladly help put his abilities to good use. 

The forest he now stepped through was old, and dense. The trunks of the trees were thick, and seemed to be quite possibly hundreds of years old. The roots were twisted, above and underground, curling around other trunks, plants and rocks, swaying across the path that James followed, deep into the heart of the forest where the monster was hiding. The air around him was filled with birdsong, somewhat of a relief to his dreading heart. Had there been a deadly beast close by, the birds would be hiding from view, not singing loudly, proclaiming their position to all that heard. 

New tracks of the monstrous animal put his feet to a halt, and he cocked his head to the side as a pang of satisfaction rose in his chest. A few more of these and he would soon find the beast, cripple it with an arrow, take off its head, and bring it back to the village. It would herald a feast, a new era of joy and freedom, no more fear of what had once been their home. They would soon be able to venture again, climb in the trees and gather mushrooms and herbs in woven baskets. Children would be allowed outside again.

He knelt down to gaze closer upon the tracks, touching the damp soil with his fingers. It gave in a little, still wet around the edges after the rainfall of the previous night. They were fresh. He leaned in closer to get a better look, trailing the tracks with fingers and eyes.

The prints had four oval toes, so it was made either by a feline or a canine. These tracks had definite claw marks, though, one lobe on the front of the heel pad, and two lobes on the rear of the heel pad, which meant the latter was more likely. He knew feline tracks rarely showed claw marks, and besides, the front of the heel pad of a feline had two lobes, and the rear of the heel pad had three lobes, which was an almost immediate giveaway. Plus, these tracks were longer than they were wide, so there was no doubt a canine-like creature had made these. 

James cocked his head to the side a little, squinting his eyes at the paw prints. Now, he only had to determine the species. It was not of a coyote; they were too big. The tracks were in a straight line, with the left and right paws only slightly offset. Still, he had to look a little closer to determine if these were the tracks he should follow. As he looked once more, he knew it for certain. These tracks right here had been made by no other animal than a _wolf_.

Everything about it told him it was a typical wolf track. Wolves walked in straight lines, so they wasted as little energy as possible while traveling, which was a stark contrast to other, somewhat larger animals. Wolves were smart and efficient; they would rather put their energy to the chase and the kill than to wandering around. Dogs of the house, for example, walked as if they were drunk off their asses, with distinctly scattered tracks. 

There was no dragging in the toes either, like dogs tended to do. Wolves left a clean stride, with in-line prints. James reached out his hand again, tracing the tracks with the light touch of his fingers, feeling something hot and vile curl in the pit of his stomach, coming up like steam to rattle his mind. This was definitely a wolf. And a big one at that. 

A wry smile curled his lips up at the corners; he was getting closer. 

With another sigh, he rose back to his feet, taking a quick look around before he continued his path. He hung his ax at his side, for when he would need to use it, and he checked his back for his crossbow, just out of habit. He could feel its comforting weight hanging there, but there was no harm in checking it just to be sure. It would be a disaster if he had forgotten his crossbow, and he knew that without it, his search would come to an end almost right away. There was no way he could fight an animal like this hand to claw; he needed something of long-distance to deliver a harsh blow up front.

Through all the years, the crossbow had been his steady partner, safe on his back, ready to be grabbed and used at any moment. The arrows it fired flew straight at their target, nearly always hitting truly. It eased his nerves as he roamed the forests, and he did not feel half as confident without it. His ax was great, strong and as trustworthy in combat, but it would not help him to take on something from a longer distance. The crossbow would stop fights before they even started, and he needed that right now. He tilted back his head to have a look around.

The beast was near, he could feel it in his bones.

Following the tracks like a trail of breadcrumbs, he was led up a small hill, finding a myriad of various thickets and trees to hide behind, only parting to give way to a glade with a small stream. It was the perfect spot for a predator to lay low and ambush any prey that dared to come towards the water to drink. Or, in James’ case, it was the perfect spot to ambush a predator when it came to quench its thirst. _Finally_.

His travel was something short of three days now. For nearly three days he had been walking and searching, following the track to a place far away from the village. It was probably where the wolf lay itself to rest, and digested its new kill in satisfaction, all before it would eventually return to the village when the hunger came, and take another child. The mere thought had a fit of rage flaring up in his chest.

Such a foul creature should not be roaming this mythical forest. 

Edging closer to the line of trees and thicket, he supposed it was better to ready his crossbow now, otherwise the beast would hear him and flee the scene, which was the last thing he wanted. This could be his only chance on a clear shot now the beast was blissfully unaware of the other hunter stalking around the glade. Who knew what could happen if he missed? The beast could even attack him if it wanted to; it had shown it had no problem slaughtering people, and though James was a good hunter, he found no trouble in admitting such a mighty beast with fangs and claws was more than he could handle.

Taking a quick breath, he pointed his crossbow towards the ground and placed his foot firmly on the stirrup. He made quick work of readying the machine, years of experience with weapons alike making the movements of pulling back and locking the string into place like a second nature to him.

With his readied crossbow in hand, he snuck closer, moving almost soundlessly across the forest floor, keeping low and quiet. He stopped in the thicket; eyes narrowed as they scanned their surroundings. Morning light filtered through the trees, casting light on the ground below, lighting up branches and tree roots that fought their way free from the dirt. He sat there, and waited, many thoughts tumbling through his head.

There was no saying how long it would take before it showed itself. There was no saying if the beast was even here or if it had long left this place to move on to another. He was not even sure if this really was its den, or just a place it liked to go.

Then it happened.

Somewhere beyond the calmly dribbling stream, where leaves and branches and thicket all came together to form a nigh impenetrable wall that kept intruders out, something moved. The leaves shook, branches swaying in a force that was not the wind, and a pebble rolled aside. It had only been a soft rustle of nature in the corner of his eye, easy to miss for the ones who did not know what they were looking for, but James had seen it. He clenched his crossbow in his hands, keeping his breathing steady.

Through the canopy of trees, a beam of light from the rising sun cast onto the forest floor, and moving into those watery splashes of light, came a wolf. 

It was a big one, bigger than any other James had ever seen before. This was a real beast, slender and powerfully built with a large, deeply descending rib cage, a sloping back, and a heavily muscled neck. It had long legs, its paws kissing the earth with a lightness usually found in dancers, its movement much smoother than that of the dogs James had seen before, almost cat-like in its grace and carefulness. The ears were relatively small and triangular, both standing erect instead of flopping around like those of house dogs. 

The fur of the beast was a hide left desirable by any self-respecting hunter; thick and glossy and full, well-maintained as if brushed every day. There was no wild hair sticking up everywhere, but rather it lay flat where it should. It was a beautiful canvass of colors spread evenly across its surface. Most of it was a light grey, though at some places it bled into an almost black hue that trailed across its body. Long, onyx hair formed a broad stripe along its back, and the sides of the body, tail, and outer limbs were a soft hint of brown. Its nose was pitch black; the muzzle pointed forward as it took even steps.

 _This_ was that beast James had been looking for.

Without a shred of doubt, _this_ was the creature he had followed for days.

As if feeling his presence, the mighty beast stopped for a moment, freezing in its steps with one paw still lifted in the air, hovering silently. The ears twitched side to side, curling this way and that, James could see it even from his spot hidden in the thicket. Then, although a little more wary than before, the wolf resumed its slow steps, striding down the invisible path only it could see, further towards the brook.

James was only just barely able to keep a loathing scoff from bubbling up his throat. The beast was most likely off to set its teeth into more innocent children to satisfy its need to kill. Its canines were probably large and sharp, heavy like rocks, making them better suited to crush the bones of prey than those of other canines. In his hideout, James stayed completely still, for if he moved the wolf would take flight into the thicket, and he would have to walk for days once more. He breathed slowly, fingers taking tighter hold of the crossbow. 

There was an intelligence to this beast, a healthy wariness for the world around. It was proud, that was certain, with a raised head that was large and heavy, strong jaws closed in the tilt of a snout, and elegant legs stretched as it walked. It moved like only wolves could – in choreographed motions, like the perfect steps of a dance flowing across the earth, yet its stance was confident and muscular. It knew what it wanted; it knew what it could do. It knew what it was capable of, and what chaos it could bring.

What families it could tear apart.

James clenched his jaw in a bout of sudden anger, closing his eyes just for a moment, before he opened them again. Like so often before a kill, he was met with a hesitance and a feeling of regret stinging in his chest, but it proved easy to push it aside. This beast was no ordinary child of the forest, no innocent deer or skittish rabbit, it was a monster from the depths of hell. Even though he was well aware of its vile deeds, James could not deny that its appearance left him breathless. Such a shame that something so beautiful was so monstrous. 

With slow, calculated movements, James raised his crossbow out before him, aiming the tip at the creature that walked there so calmly. Its belly was most likely filled with the flesh of young children, pieces of fabric from a cute little dress still stuck between its teeth, James was _sure_ of it. It was this beast that had killed those children, so it should expect no mercy from a hunter. Watching that murderous thing strut around so carelessly fed the fire in his chest. The regret was gone, and there was only calm anger left. A combined, controlled rage aimed at the source.

A second passed, and James ceased his every movement, keeping still in his place hidden between the roots and branches and bushes. Instead, he just stared at the beast with his crossbow ready. He raised it before his face with slow movements, so he was sure he had not been heard, until the end nearly bumped against his nose. He kept both eyes open, and stared at the mighty wolf as it walked about so blissfully unaware of its nearing demise, having not a single clue what its fate had in store. James took a deep breath, regaining the focus he needed.

He watched the beast move, coming from his right and moving towards the left, closing in slightly as its path was crooked. He aimed after it, the tip following the wolf’s large head, taking its movement into his calculations, knowing he would have to aim not where it was, but where it was going to be, or he would miss and all this would be for nothing. He had to be patient and careful, to relax when he was shooting an arrow. He could not be tense.

Calmly and in control, James shifted direction of his crossbow, thinking it through one more time before he knew he was ready, and he released. The arrow was pushed forward by the bow’s string, flicked away from the wooden construction, and it shot through the air with its own little whistle, cutting air as it flew directly at its target. For a mere second or two, the world stood still. It was as if there was just the forest around him as it burst with colors. The canopy was a roof greens and yellows, and rays of light filtered through their crowns, lighting the glade where the water babbled down the gently sloping hill and–

A piercing cry cut through the forest.

Sharper than a knife, the cry scared up birds from their place in the trees, sending them flying in a rushed state of panic. Once the initial surprise of the attack had faded, barks of pain and surprise tore up from the throat of an animal, forced out through the mouth to exclaim its hurt. The wolf jumped to the side, muscles contracting all at once as it tried to get away from the arrow that had already pierced its hide.

In its panic, the wolf danced on its legs, high and low, stumbling and falling across the ground in its confusion, snapping its teeth towards the spot where it hurt, but the arrow sat in too deeply and too far away from its mouth for it to reach in the standing position it was in. The more the beast panicked and moved around, the deeper the arrow embedded itself into its flesh. Noises of distress flew out through the wolf’s snout, pants and whines and barks, all in vain for the damage had been done.

The arrow had hit its target.

Though it was not quite its heart or its head that James had hit, having shot the beast in its hint was more than alright as well. This way, the creature would suffer before it died, just like it had made so many other people suffer. James was convinced it deserved this, and more. It had brought so much pain, anger and rage to the villagers, taking away loved ones to still its bloodlust like they were mere bunnies, always being too strong and fast to be caught or killed. Such a vile creature deserved to be punished.

It deserved to feel agonizing pain burn through its body as it tried to escape a danger that would not leave it alone, the kind that would chase it until it had bled out on the forest floor.

Feeling nothing but content with himself, even _satisfied_ about his own accomplishments, James stepped out of the thicket and into the light, not caring about keeping quiet anymore. The beast was now completely aware another predator of the forest had attacked it, well-aware a new danger had presented itself merely a moment ago, so this was the right moment to step up and claim victory. The wolf had been crippled by the arrow, so it was only a matter of time before the deed had been done, and peace could return to the valley and forest.

Naturally, the beast would try to escape its unfortunate demise, but really, where could it go? The arrow with the sharp edges sat stuck in its flank, making every step a true hell to get through. James took quick strides towards the beast, feeling the adrenaline course through his body and he was filled to the brim with elation of a successful hunt. His boots stamped and flattened the earth beneath his soles, and he took his ax firmly in the palm of his hand as he charged forward. 

Upon laying its unusually bright blue eyes on James’ advancing form, the wolf’s body seemed to go rigid, the muscles of its entire being tensing so hard even James could see it clear as day. It was scared.

 _Good_ , James thought, _you deserve no less_.

The beast curled up its upper lip up, bearing its sharp, gleaming fangs into a loud snarl in an attempt to scare him off, to make him retreat out of fear and dread for the attack of the monster, but James was not scared. Not even a little. Not anymore. The whole performance would have been more impressive had the wolf’s hide not been slick with blood that dripped down its flank in rivulets. This animal was done for the count.

He should not feel such triumph over this, but fate had finally struck down justice upon this Earth, blessing the insignificant-appearing piece of wood so it would hit its target, helping the people to rid their home of the evil that roamed here. The wolf was nothing more than a creature of blood and dirt and murder, and not a single hair on its body deserved to live. It was disgusting, and James would spit on its dead form.

Trying once more to scare him off, the wolf growled lowly, but when it realized that its threats of deep snarls and a wrinkled snout proved futile, and the hunter would not stop, it turned tail and ran. James set the chase. 

The previous fluid motions of the wolf were now nowhere to be found. The beast ran with apparent effort, huffing and puffing and whining in pain as the wood of the arrow stuck out from its side, slowing it down considerably by providing him agony and discomfort. It stumbled across the forest floor, a kind of utter desperation and fear clouding its mind and instinct so it only panicked further. It had just been knocked down from its rank as the predator, and reduced to nothing but a meek prey. It was no longer the hunter, but rather the hunted.

No longer could it dart back into the thicket with the ease it had shown before; it seemed to have enough trouble already with moving at all. 

All of this would work in James’s advantage; while he could not run that fast or keep up a quick sprint, he could walk for _long_. The only thing he had to do to ensure his victory, was to follow the wolf wherever it went. He had to make sure he knew where it was going, and like that he would catch up with it eventually every time it tried to escape. It was in the nature of men that they out walked their prey. Since the beginning of time humans had followed prey until the animal could run no further, and it would collapse.

The beast was hurt, it would not be able to hold on for much longer, and when it finally collapsed to the earth, he would strike.

James covered the uneven paths of dirt with a great lolloping gait that he had worked hard on for years since his childhood. One that helped him keep up with his wounded prey. He was tall and muscled, with trained legs that could carry him far. Perhaps he was not the fastest, but he was strong and lean, he would get far with as little effort as possible. He was moving a little quicker than ordinary jogging, following the wolf’s sloppy trail and its noises of pain and fear. Some kind of twisted enjoyment worked up in James’s chest.

Now the monster would feel what all those children had before they died. 

A louder whine pierced the air and a harsh _thump_ followed a second later, spinning up to James’s ears. The wolf had wrongly calculated its steps going down the slightly sloping hill lying before them, and it had fallen flat on its snout. James saw his chance and raised his ax, approaching with a fastened pace, but before he could strike, his foot caught beneath a tree root. It seemed to have come out of nowhere, and there was no time to catch his footing before he tripped as well, his weapon falling from his hand and clattering across the ground.

Taking the opportunity it had been given, the wolf jumped back up to its feet, letting out a pathetic whine as it limped forward again, still trying to make it to safety even though its fate had long been sealed. It should just give up by now, running away only prolonged its suffering – not that he was any kind of bothered by that. 

With a frustrated noise, James pushed himself up from the ground, picking up his ax and continuing his chase. They weaved around the trees of the forest, but something was different. They were wading through low bushes and plants that stuck out from all sides, but the wolf seemed to have no problem carrying itself through it, even though its fur should be stuck in every thorn and skeleton hand of the trees. James, on the other hand, was constantly attacked by sharp branches, large leaves, flies, and more tree roots he was sure had not been there before, as if they had sprouted into existence just to hold him back.

Had he been superstitious, he would have thought the forest did not want him to kill the wolf, but he was not, so he chalked it up to not watching his step.

A few minutes later, when he had almost caught up on the creature as it lost more and more strength, it suddenly darted to the side and disappeared into the thicket. The thumping of its paws stopped, and the panting seemed to be really close now. This was it. The beast had slipped through the bush hoping for some cover, hiding on the other side, too tired and hurt to move any further. It had resigned to its exhaustion. This was his chance; he should take it now and put down the best himself before nature would.

James took his crossbow, reloading it just to be sure, intending to use it to finish that monster once and for all. He worked his way through the thick undergrowth, keeping his eyes out for the desperate animal, for those were the most dangerous. A cornered animal could do strange things, and the last thing James wanted was to be attacked in the back by it.

The panting was close; James looked ahead. There was something on the ground, painting the grass in a color that did not belong there. It was a trail of blood leading from the growth to the trees ahead, the drops growing in size. Eyes darting from the forest floor to the air before him, James followed the trail. He saw a wisp of something black and white, moving a little before it seemed to collapse somewhere behind the last trees that obstructed James’ sight.

A small smile ticked up the corners of his lips, even when he could not see the animal anymore. It had finally given up, and it would be his. He had won. The last strike would soon be delivered, and the village would be safe once again. No more children grabbed and eaten. No more loved ones ripped away. They could finally sleep easy knowing they were safe, knowing their family was safe, and their animals too. Knowing they had justice for the ones they had lost, and that it would never happen again.

Drawing in a deep breath, he stalked closer, step by step, the thrill of the chase pushing up his throat and coiling in his stomach. He had his crossbow out, hands gripping the wood. He pulled himself out of the grabby branches of the thicket, aiming his arrow at the creature pressed up against the tree and…

It was not a wolf. 

James could not look away. Shock filled every part of his face, freezing every single part of his body and he could not move. He stared at the tree, following the blood trail up to the creature that was not a creature at all.

It was a man. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep coming back to two things, it seems: Fantasy and Hurt Steve Rogers...
> 
> Well, at least you know what to expect of me ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	2. Chapter 2

The man was naked as the day he was born, not a shred of clothes on his body to cover the skin that lay exposed to the sharp tip of the readied arrow on James’ crossbow.

Short, honey golden locks that shone in the rising sun stuck to the man’s sweaty forehead, partially obscuring a set of perfectly round circles of ocean blue. All the thousand shades of the spring sky and the deepest seas swirled together to form a whirlpool of hues, with specks of fear gleaming through the masses. Hurried breaths flew across his trembling, cherry red plump lips, and tears had caught in the pitch-black lashes that fanned out against his golden skin, sparkling in the light like little droplets in a spider’s web.

James’s gaze trailed down the creature’s hunched form as it lay against the tree, legs pulled up as far as they could go to cover its lithe body up even a little. His eyes roamed further upon a slender framed torso with broad shoulders trailing down to a narrow, tapered waist. His gaze glided across the soft chest with a visible shape of ribs, heaving up and down in quick breaths of panic. Even when it sat curled up, supple form hunched into itself, James could make out a concave stomach and sharp protruding hip bones, all visible as if it has had to make due with little food for a longer period of time, losing a little more weight every week, and the thighs stretched into a set of long legs, drawn up protectively for as far as it was able to.

Without his intention, James’ heart clenched painfully in his chest, dropping low enough to crush through the bottom of his stomach. The leg that was on James’ side, the one most exposed to him, was trembling almost uncontrollably, the long shaft of an arrow sticking out from the thigh where blood pooled and poured out of the broken skin. It had made quite the cut.

Then it all caught up to him, and it made no sense at all.

For a moment, James felt nothing but utter and complete confusion rushing through his mind so fast it made him dizzy. He turned his head left and right to peer along the trees and the green growth, trying to find the wolf he had been hunting a mere minute ago, but he saw nothing. The wolf was his mission, not this man, even though he was wounded. What he had been hunting was a giant creature with a black and white and grey coat that stood out from the green forest background, it could not have just…  _ disappeared _ , could it? That was impossible.

He turned his head back at the being that lay in front of him, who quivered head to toe with the same fear that sat plastered across its face–  _ his _ face?

And then James released he was still holding his weapon.

The tip of the sharp arrow sat aimed at the man’s chest, which the stranger now tried to cover with his arms, curling away with a pitiful whimper. Though James knew he probably should, he made no attempt to lower the crossbow. He just… he could not bring himself to do it. He knew he  _ should _ , he knew that this could never be the monster he was hunting, but nothing about this whole situation made any sense. He could not believe his eyes, neither did he understand what was going on, and he would not put away his weapon before he  _ did _ .

Searching the ground, James was quick to find the trail of blood that clearly belonged to the wolf. Only, when he followed it with his eyes, two or three times over, he kept ending up at the strange man. The man who had one of James’ arrows in his leg, the same one he had fired at the wolf not too long ago. Shaking his head a little, and letting out a soft breath in his confusion and frustration, James pressed his crossbow forth a little more, trying his best not to let his heart crack at the fearful noise it got him. 

"What are you?" he demanded, eyes darting up and down the man’s appearance. He wanted an explanation, and he wanted it now. Apart from the arrow sticking into the man’s flesh, he saw no marks, burns or wounds in any strange, diabolical symbols. Perhaps a few tiny scratches of thorns, but that was it. There were no marks of the devil, no unholy patterns to be found anywhere. "Some kind of witch? A demon?"

There came no answer, the man only parted his lips to suck in deep breaths, his body shivering and trembling in fear and stress. The wound did not stop bleeding, the movement having torn open flesh and veins. It must hurt, and James felt his heart clench again. That must hurt a whole lot. His head felt as if it would split in two, and he could not decide whether to keep pressing or just put his weapon down. What if this man  _ was _ the wolf? Animal transformations were only something James had heard of in absurd stories, but  _ what if? _ He could not let his guard down.

After all, it was the wolf who had killed the children and men of the village.

"Do you even understand what I’m saying?" James asked then, speaking loud and clear.

His loud tone of voice only seemed to strike more fear into the others’ heart, as he pressed himself further against the tree, almost as if trying to disappear into it. There was not even a nod of acknowledgement, so James took it as a  _ no _ . A scream of frustration sat heavy in his chest, trying to break loose, and he felt the sudden urge to hit his fist against a tree. Not only had he lost the wolf he had been ordered to kill, but now he was left to deal with a wounded young man who  _ could _ be that wolf, but who looked so scared and vulnerable that James did not have the cold heart needed to release the arrow and finish it off.

Two voices battled in his head, one from his brain, the cold one telling him to finish the job, to do what he had been asked to do, but the other came from his heart. His heart begged him to leave the creature be, his feelings and senses unable to wrap themselves around the fact that something so beautiful could be the monster he was looking for. Surely, he had heard of the tales of beautiful creatures who lured unsuspecting travelers to their hideouts to kill them, but this seemed nothing alike for some reason. Then he realized.

It was the eyes.

Those deep pools of bright blue that held not even a pinch of malicious intents, vile thoughts or murderous urges. There was not a single drop of bloodlust in those shiny oceans, not a wisp of urge to pounce and kill. James had seen many vicious monsters in his days as a hunter, but this… this was just not the same. This creature here before him did not hold the feral shine of a caged monster, but rather the fear of an innocent victim. Something caught up in a trap never meant to capture it, but that it could not escape from, nonetheless.

James had seen monsters, and he knew this was not one of them. Had this been the cruel beast that hunted down little children and dragged them to its den to kill and eat, then it would not have looked at him like this. Then it would not have acted the way that it did now, even if it was a mimic of some kind. There was a difference, and that difference was present at this very moment.

"You are not the monster I thought you were, are you?" James asked, his voice now soft and gentle.

There was no answer, but the young man flinched when James lowered his crossbow, tipping the arrow to the ground. The gesture did not seem to put the creature at ease, as it was still trembling fearfully, scared noises of pain and distress emitting from the bottom of its chest. James eased the bow string, releasing the tension so it would not fire accidentally. He hung the weapon on his back, showing the creature that he no longer bore any intention to fire a shot. 

Pushing the ax that dangled from his hip aside, he lowered himself to the ground, one knee digging into the dirt, the other pointing up with his foot down flatly. The creature’s eyes darted from his eyes to his weapons, suspicious and frightful of the ax and the crossbow that were still in sight. James held up his hands, bringing them forward with care as he bent his elbows. Slowly, his fingers uncurled, his bare palms held up placatingly towards the creature that sat curled up against the trunk.

"I will not hurt you," James said. He winced a little at the sight of the arrow, how it had wedged itself into layers of skin, muscles and meat. The bleeding had seemed to have slowed down, quicker than he would have expected, but that was not necessarily a good thing. The creature  _ had _ lost quite an amount of blood already, trembling weakly as it slowly lost its strength. He needed something to stop the bleeding, he needed to apply pressure.

When he threaded forward slowly, the creature curled up its upper lip in a snarl, just like the wolf had done before, and he made a low, growling sound. The message was clear,  _ back off! _ But there was no time for such things. A wound like that had its risks; it could get infected if not treated properly, it could tear open again, and the arrow had to be taken out.

Rising a little higher on his feet, James shrugged off his own large coat, bringing it in front of him to reach out towards the shaking young man. Though the shaking presumably came from fear and stress, the poor thing was wearing nothing at all, and James could not imagine the chilly breeze did not play a part in it as well. Not to mention James did stare at its body, which probably made the creature feel uncomfortable and cornered.

"Here," he said, taking the edges of the coat, bringing it forward, "You must be cold."

There was no answer, only frightful eyes and hitching breaths. James took the chance and moved forward a little more, banking off to the side as to reach the creature’s shoulders. It turned and twisted its head to keep him in sight, though moving its body caused it pain. Going forth to drape the coat across the young man’s shoulders, James reprimanded himself in his head for his insistence to keep calling the man ‘it’.

Perhaps he  _ had _ been a wolf until shortly before, but he was still a man, and for as far as James was aware, he had not done anything wrong.

With cautious, careful movements, James lay the coat around the other man, smoothing down it a little and helping him wrap the fabric around himself. Then, he moved to the side again, going for the wounded leg. The young man made an attempt to pull it back, but there was nowhere to go, and the attempt proved to be in vain. James took hold of the place beneath the bend of the knee, at the back of the thighs, keeping the leg in place. He could feel the muscles quiver beneath his hand, splaying his fingers wide for an extra firm grip.

"I have to take a look at that," he said, looking up into the others’ eyes shortly.

Like before, no answer was offered, so James continued to feel like he was doing cruel things after he had already done a most hideous other thing, forcing himself onto the wounded creature who had no idea what he was saying. Everything about it must be terrifying. Getting shot out of nowhere, watching a man storm up with an ax in hand, being chased into the forest with a hunter right behind, being haunted by said hunter who appeared with that big ax and crossbow of his every time he thought he was safe.

Something down in his abdomen turned around and into a knot, as if he was going to be sick, and he knew it had to be his stomach. While James kept his eyes on the wound, his thoughts were somewhere else completely. His mind was with the sorcery of what he was seeing before him, his thoughts whispering to him that it could be a dark form of magic, the bad kind of witchcraft. He had to be careful, for it could be a curse able to affect  _ him _ as well. For some reason however, he doubted it. Something else was going on.

Though he knew it was not something he was supposed to be occupied with right now, James could not help but notice how immensely  _ soft _ the creature’s skin was. He moved his hand, skimming his fingers along the underside of the man’s thigh, and his eyebrows rose when it felt like silk to his touch. Like the most delicate flower, or the most expensive fabrics.

A sudden rush of longing to run his hands down those soft planes of skin caught him from behind, part of him wishing to brush aside the fabric of the coat and explore what lay hidden beneath, for he had never seen or felt anything like it. With the harsh shake of his head, he jarred himself back to reality, scolding himself mentally for even  _ considering _ a thing like that. He forced his head back to the problem, back to the  _ here _ and the  _ now _ . 

When he moved the arrow, the cry that tore free from the young man’s lips was enough to make James cringe, heart beating even faster. He worked around the wound, carefully applying some pressure as he tried to figure out whether to take the arrow out or not. Though the wound was certainly not shallow, the amount of blood was surprisingly small, and so he dared to take out the sharp point before it would cut up any more muscles and veins. Another cry rose from his side, one that shot right through his chest, but he could not lose focus now.

It was a most sloppy bandage, by far not his best work, but he tried to hold it all together the best he could. It was not like he had many options here. The blood soaked the fabric right away, but thankfully it did not seem to be that much. Since he had already given away his coat, he did not have much unneeded fabric left to tear up for a makeshift bandage. He would have to find something else to use. Cleaning the wound would not be a bad idea either. He cringed a little at the sight of the dirt peppering the blond’s leg, undoubtedly having reached the wound as well. That was just  _ asking _ for an infection.

The question remained; now the arrow was out, how would he continue?

Without a doubt, he knew he would not leave the kid behind, not a chance, and it was not just his tugged at heart strings that lead him to this conclusion. This young man was clearly not the monster, so the real beast was still out there, roaming the paths and luring at children. If it caught on that there was another being in this forest bleeding and unable to walk, it would come here as soon as it could, and not to help. Having gathered information from the village, he knew the beast was often hungry, and it never passed up on free buffets. It did not pass up on the sheep of the meadow, and neither did it keep its paws off the helpless children.

No, if James were to leave right now, just killing the blonde with another arrow would have been more merciful, for the monster would tear him apart.

And thus he reached out, moving in to try and scoop up the blond so they could leave and get to any nearby village for aid. The wound needed to be treated, and James was not equipped or capable to give him the care he needed. He wondered how he would explain it, though.  _ I shot the kid because he was in his wolf form and I thought he was the monster _ , as if that would not send him straight to prison for being mad, or rip away every scrap of his reputation in a moment’s notice.

The kid offered some resistance, pushing James’ hand away with his own, fumbling around with his good leg, but it all had little use. Variously pitched growls emitted from his throat, some of them impressive and quite threatening, but being aware he was the stronger one of the two at the moment, James was not scared away. It would be a different story once the blond had healed, but at least now he had the benefit of not being hurt.

"It’s alright," James said, his hands locking around the kid’s flailing arms a little tighter to make him stop struggling so hard, holding back the weak attempts to escape without being too harsh. He still had to lift the other up, and he would rather not get a set of fingers in his eyes or accidentally drop him if he started thrashing around. "Take it easy, buddy. I’m just going to lift you up, that’s all."

There was a huff, and a low snort, but the blond did cease his unfruitful struggle, though a moment later he proved it was not because of what James said, but because of the idea he himself had formed in his head. He tried to push himself away a tad more again, leaning off to the side to roll himself to his knees, but James would not let him. This was precious time they wasted, and for what? A childish play-fight front that would lead absolutely nowhere. Not to mention rolling onto his knees with a wound like that was a  _ terrible _ idea.

Positioning himself beside the young man in such a way he knew he would be able to lift the weight, James reached out his hands and tried to get a better hold of him, but the blond had different plans. He seemed to be thoroughly convinced he could make it by himself, and that he did not need James, while moving around with the coordination of a seal, and a wounded leg. Walking would be a nightmare.

"Kid," James said, moving his head left and right to catch the other’s gaze. He liked to make eye contact while talking with someone, "You can’t stand. Just let me do this, and we can move. I’d appreciate it if we could reach the village before dark, okay?"

Again, the blond tried to escape the grasp he was held in, struggling with the last bit of desperation he had left. So convinced he could stand… so convinced he did not need any help and could do this all on his own… He did need help, but he did not want to accept it, much rather either staying on the forest floor, or forcing James to leave so he could fend for himself. The kid yanked his arms back to himself, giving a short growl before leaning to his other side.

He was trying to get up.

James watched in curious silence as the blond pushed his good foot against the ground, shoving dirt and leaves aside, fingers clawing into the earth as his face twisted up in strain and the agony of his wound. His bad leg trembled, slowly getting out of control, and it would not cooperate with his attempts to put himself back onto his feet. He only flopped aside a few inches, good leg half curling in for a better grip, but it just would not work. His face went even more pale than it had been before, small noises of pain slipping out even though he clearly did not want them to.

Walking was not an option, only he had to realize that himself. He seemed tired, worn-out… even if he  _ did _ manage to hoist himself onto his feet, he would not make it three steps before collapsing back onto the ground, and what if he landed on his bad leg? A wrong fall could really tear open the wound and make it all so much worse. But even if the thought had occurred in the kid’s mind, he was determined not to pay any attention to it, and continue his effort. His strength was slipping, his breath coming in short, painful gasps, and his whole body thrumming with burning and pulsating sensations. 

It was awful to watch.

Not willing to wait any longer, James moved forward and took matters into his own hands.

Literally.

Having access to his legs, James wound an arm beneath the seat of the thighs, gathering the kid into his arms, and then, with a small grunt, picked him off from the ground. It was soon after he noticed it went with surprising ease, the body weighing less than he had anticipated. In an instinctive response, the young blond secured an arm back around him, holding on tightly while floating in the air. He had gone quiet after the swoop, not even protesting anymore through growls and snarls, all sounds now withheld as James took a few careful steps, testing the newfound weight in his arms and if he would be able to hold it.

Even now his sleeved arms carried most of the body, the tremors running beneath the golden skin were hard to miss. Like a tiny earthquake beneath the Earth’s surface, or a quivering leaf in the cold winter breeze. James clumsily tried to tuck his coat a little better around the kid’s body.

It was strange to feel the surprisingly light weight of the man in his hand, especially knowing he could not be much smaller than James himself. It was lighter than he had expected when he had seized the man up a moment before lifting him. He had expected the weight of a man, of a grown person, but instead was met with something different. Granted, the man  _ had _ been a wolf just now, so this was not the strangest thing about the situation, and he had no doubt more strange things would soon come to light. Where there was one mystery, there likely were a lot more.

Hauling the other somewhat more securely in his arms, James began his way down the sloping hill back into the direction he had come from. He knew there to be a stream close by, perhaps a quarter of an hour or so away, as he had passed it on his way here. He would have to clean the wound first and bandage it more properly, or risk infection before they had reached civilization, and he would much rather avoid that.

It was still quite the walk towards the village he knew was around an hour or two away. He had seen a few rooftops in between the trees when he was wandering around and tracking, but he had never actually gone into the village, not wanting to let the trail grow cold.

Though the kid most likely had no clue where they were going, why this was happening, or why James did not just kill him on the spot, there was surprisingly little opposition to be found now. It could very well be the case that James was carrying him away to finish him off somewhere else, perhaps for an occult sacrifice or to do any other terrible thing, but that either did not cross his head, or he did not care. The only sign of any kind of worry or fear to be found was the shivering, and the stuttering breaths James was now able to hear so well.

It was such an odd contrast; how the kid was trembling so harshly yet lying almost like a dead weight in his arms. James just hoped they would reach the creek soon, he’d hate for the creature to die on him, especially when he did not yet have his answers. 


End file.
